User blog comment:Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring/Mossflower Country & Beyond/@comment-3135907-20120220220025/@comment-5343292-20120815142004

''Bazir watched through the bushes in mild interest as Grathank fell, his right wing shredded by Raznare's blade, The large raven tumbled into the cart alonside Salpicar with a shreak, going half-stunned as his skull connected with the wood floor, his wings still flapping feebly. Soon, his feral instinct hit him and he spun around, his eyes shining with madness, and began clawing and spearing at the unfortunate searat, seeking his neck, comepletely ignorant of the Captain that had slashed his wing and broken his flight. Bazir shook, ruffling his feathers comfortably, and chuckled. He had never liked the large oaf of a bird-He would not be missed. His yellow eyes rose towards the sky, seeking to find his warlord. If Wroc Caw was dead, than it would be bad luck for the whole army. And after all he had seen tonight, Bazir felt he had had enough bad luck for one night.''